Maria

Ok so once again, not being able to use the computer has hindered me from updating as often as I’d like.  So I’ll go back to Sunday and hopefully post about Monday and Tuesday later today…

Sunday was church day!  I went to my neighbor’s church, which happens to be right by the baseball park I jog around and the bakery where I purchase bread for Mama.  Initially I thought it would just be the neighbor and I heading out, but then a teenage girl appeared!   She hopped in the back just before we left.  She was very quiet, so you know my curiosity took over...and I started interviewing her LOL.  Her name is Maria (like my grandma) and she’s 14 years old.  She attends church with my neighbor every Sunday.  I explained to her that I while I don’t speak Spanish well, I am trying.  I also encouraged her to correct me whenever I made a mistake.  Her eyes brightened and before we even walked into church I knew I had made a friend.  The service itself was pretty good.  Definitely closer to what I’m use to…lots of music, live instruments and a pastor that was present through it all…he even got up and lead the band on a few songs.  Now, he’s no Pastor Bobby, but he’s ok.  After church, Maria and I got an opportunity to speak more and this time it was her turn to interview me.   She wanted to know where I use to live, what I did for work and what I was trying to do here.  I explained I came from New York/Philadelphia, have a TV/radio background and while I’d love to work in radio again out here, I know that initially I’d have to do something behind the scenes since my Spanish is not where it needs to be.  I told her I’m living with my grandma to get better and as soon as I find a car my next step is to find a part time job.  Finally, she exclaimed “Wow, que cool!”  (Wow, how cool!).  She goes to a private high school and wants to be a pediatrician.  She is the only girl and the youngest of four children.  Oh yeah and she speaks English but I am proud to say I have not spoken to her in English at all (other than a word here and there that I am asking her to translate for me).  Once we got to the neighborhood, we went our separate ways, but I was quick to invite her over, telling her “I live here now, so come and visit whenever you’d like.”  She giggled, said “Ok. “ and went home.   Five hours later she was sitting on my grandmother’s couch telling me all about her plans for college.  So, it seems I’ve already acquired a mentee here in Puerto Rico… ¡Wow, que cool!

Hmmm what else happened on Sunday?  OH!  Apparently my parents have been fielding phone calls from family members who are cracking up on the phone and saying “So has Misha sent you a picture of her eyebrows yet?  Are they as bad as she says?”  and “Misha’s blog is so good, have you been reading it?” Now, let’s be clear, I have not hid the fact that I had a blog from my parents at all.  In fact, back when this blog first started I sent the link to my father (and maybe even my mother) via e-mail.  But, like most parents, they’re busy and not use to being in front of the computer.  So they mostly forgot about it and just listened in whenever someone would refer to it.

Well, it seems enough is enough, they want in on the loop.  So Sunday, after a brief conversation with my father, he says “Hey little girl, how do I see this blog of yours?”  I have to admit, my stomach rose and fell all at the same time.  I was proud that they were eager to read it…I had been receiving a lot of compliments on not only my content but on my writing in general and I was excited to share my “good work” with them.  Then my stomach dropped.  My last post was about Norberto.  I hadn’t had a conversation with my father yet about Norberto or about what Mama told me.  What if he was offended?  What if he hated the fact that I am publicly posting all this information about our family on the Internet?  My dad loathes text messaging, my mom has sworn to never open a Facebook page…so a blog, talking about so much…well it could quickly turn into a disaster for me.   He handed my mom the phone once he had the correct web address and as soon as it was in her hand I told her the deal with the Norberto posting.  I explained that I was really hoping he wouldn’t be upset.  She laughed it off but it wasn’t a “oh nothings wrong, stop worrying laugh” it was a “I wonder what she wrote, but let me try to calm her down” laugh.  We spoke for about ten more minutes and then in the background I hear “What is this picture up here?”  My mom says “Yeah Misha what’s this ¡Cambio Su Estio con Mirta!”  So I explain that the pic is supposed to depict someone “changing their style”.  Then I think : Oh my goodness, he’s not even reading, he’s just surfing!  I told him to read from the first post in January so that he can get a sense of the journey!  My thoughts are interrupted when I hear “Nay look, it’s a picture of you.”  My mom’s attention focuses on my dad who is apparently sitting at the computer desk “What?  Where?”  Ahhhh!  I’ve now lost control of the situation…I am on the phone and they are just navigating my blog like nobody’s business.  Then my mom says “Ok, let me go look at this blog with your father.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”  That was Sunday.  Today is Wednesday.  My phone has yet to ring.  Are they upset?  Are they impressed?  Are they neither?  I’m afraid to find out.  Because if I do, and they are in fact, upset I will need to make a decision.  Do I continue the blog knowing I don’t have their blessing or do I shut it down and simply document my adventures privately?

Generation X & Y

According to dictionary.com these two terms are defined as the following:

Generation X - members of the generation of people born between the mid-1960's and the mid-1970's who are highly educated and underemployed, reject consumer culture, and have little hope for the future.

Generation Y - members of the generation of people born since the early 1980s who are seen as being discerning consumers with a high disposable income

Since I began volunteering, these two terms have been running marathon laps in my head.  See, I was always under the impression that both my older brother and I were Generation X'ers.  That term used to be thrown around left and right along with "the new millennium" and "Y2K".  I also never knew that when that term was being thrown around that we ...well...HE was being referred to as a person who had "little hope for the future". That's interesting because for as long as I can remember my "Generation X" brother has been one of the most hard working individuals I know!  He had a paper route as soon as he was legally allowed to work! I always felt a certain sense of pride every time I opened our door and saw all the newspapers in front of the apartments.  I remember thinking my brother did that.  When he outgrew the paper route he moved onto Red Lobster as a manager in the kitchen...making sure food was how it should be before it was sent out to customers.  I mostly remember this job because my mom and I would patiently wait for him to get home at night as he usually came home with the best leftovers (mmmm crab legs for days!!).  He went to college and by sophomore year he was an R.A.  By the time he got out of college, he already had a position in a graphic arts company serving as their IT guy.  Then, he jumped over to being a graphics guy for a law office...and that is when the bachelor pad came, the pool table and ohhh that Pepsi Blue BMW (I still dream about that thing).  My brother was and still is the definition of hustle...that is Generation X to me.

Now, Generation Y.  I guess I'm Generation Y.  Sure, I've had jobs.  I remember trying to trick the manager at Boston Market into hiring me because I was a few months shy of being of legal working age.  I also remember finally landing a job at a donut shop that, if I recall correctly, I quit soon after seeing a mouse run over my foot!  I have never been that paralyzed by fear before.  My mother had to talk me off the ledge because I was besides myself when  I called her.  After that, it was clear to me...I was heading for office jobs. Paid internships, actually.  One for a huge NYC bank and another for a national magazine.  I wasn't an R.A. in college, truth be told, I didn't really pursue it...I was too busy basking in my newly appointed freedom.  Luckily, I did find my first love though...radio.  So, by the time I graduated college, I had a gig in an industry I adored.  That was Generation Y for me.

Fast forward...a few months shy of 2011, I have been volunteering for the last two months at a local high school once a week.  I am devastated and have to seriously talk myself out of becoming hopeless.  What do I see when I walk into this school, what am I experiencing? 

I see children who are treated like they are no longer their parent's problem, treated like crap by their peers and criminals by their educators.  I see young men who think being a man is having clothes like Lil Wayne and an attitude to match.  I see young women who define themselves by what that Lil Wayne clone says about them.  I see messy kids who walk in with ignorant parents.  I see overworked parents trying to fit a meeting with the principal into their lunch hour.  I see a kid with a Blackberry but not a belt.  I see an iPhone but no notebook.  I see a teacher who is a walking thunder cloud.  "No one can't tell her s*** and she's not afraid to tell anyone that, not a parent, not a student, not a fellow administrator."  I see teachers who walk right past each other without a word...not even a simple "Good Morning".  I see a principal who is trying his hardest to work for these kids and encourage them all while robbing Peter to pay Paul.  I hear children saying they were literally robbed in the bathroom.  I hear boys saying "Ni*** this" and "N*** that" or "f*%# you N*&^%" but then walk into the office with their eyes low and their voice even lower to ask a question.  No, not because they are ashamed or because they know they shouldn't  speak like that...but because they don't know how to speak to adults and have no self confidence.  I hear of baby gangs popping up left and right. I hear of synthetic pot making its way into our schools.  I see pregnancy.  Hopeless yet?  Angry yet?  Worried yet?  Well, I am.  

I'm so worried that I reflect on myself, my brother, my cousins...who were our mentors and where are the mentors now?  Then I look in the mirror.  Time has passed, my hair is beginning to grey, my friends are married and having babies, my mentors are getting older.  Where are the mentors now?!  I ask again...then I look in the mirror.

One thing I failed to mention in my Generation X and Generation Y stories is probably the most important underlying, and often overlooked, ingredient for success...mentors.  My brother and I were blessed to have not only our parents on the front line of defense, but also extended family members like Valerie, Vivian, John, Lisa, Titi Annie, Tata and Tio.  Not to mention youth groups like Aspira full of people like Daralyn, Vanessa, Maziel, Grecia, Lisa, Tony, Lydell, Isabelle, etc.  These are just a few people who served as professional and/or personal role models, encouraged us, invested in us, questioned us about school, gave us advice about college, served as references and even provided opportunities for paid internship or even jobs.  That was what made us successful.  That is what kept us on our toes and that is what helped to water the seed of ambition that was in us.  

Yes, we are 20 something and 30 something now.  Yes, we are working on our careers and building our families.  Yes, we're looking for Mr. (or Mrs.) Right...but let's remember how we got here.  We have to reach a hand back, because that hand may be connected to the hand your child will need one day.  It takes a village and its our turn at bat.

A few links:

http://www.nyc.gov/html/acs/html/become_mentor/become_mentor.shtml

http://www.mentoring.org/